


Sky and Shadow

by RosettaStarlight



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Callum's Dad - Freeform, Expanding on canon, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Multi, Other, Slow Burn, adventures in xadia, callum is half sky elf, callum's dad may have never known him but he cared a lot, half-elf callum, mild body horror, watch me hurl canon out the window, world-building based on speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosettaStarlight/pseuds/RosettaStarlight
Summary: Someone is following them.Rayla knows this, but she can't figure out who it is. What she does know is that this person refuses to be deterred. And they have an odd fixation on her human friend. Little did the human and elf know that their unwanted stalker had a stronger connection to Callum than either of them had thought.Follow Callum, Rayla and Azymondias as they race across Xadia to stop a war before it can begin, becoming entangled in a web of greed, politics, xenophobia, and learn truths of the past many would think best left buried.
Relationships: Callum & Harrow (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla/Original Male Character, Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Harrow/Sarai (The Dragon Prince), Sarai (The Dragon Prince)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 289
Collections: Dragon and Elves, Half-Elf Callum Club





	1. Chapter 1

All around him were walls of solid-carved stone. Beyond the bars, there was only darkness. Thunder boomed so loudly that Edan could hear it even within the deep bowels of the dungeons where no light entered. Water trickled down the far wall of his cell. If the storm kept up much long, he would find himself kneeling in a cold puddle of rainwater. 

Not like his discomfort mattered. Not like the storm mattered. Nothing mattered.

What did he have left to lose?

Footsteps leading to his cell. 

Edan’s heart rate rose, but he didn’t move except to look up from where his head hung as he knelt on the floor. His hair had grown long and disheveled, the pearl white of his hair dirty with grime and filth. Over the years, his skin had become covered in layers of dirt to where it now seemed several tones darker than it truly was. 

When he moved, he winced at the sharp stab of pain that shot through his shoulderblades.

Two small, hard lumps replaced what had once been wings on his back, ugly to look at and aching at his back whenever he moved them, plaguing him with pain while he slept and at random while awake. They jutted out his shoulder blades where scarred white skin stretched thinly over bone. Jagged marks traveled down the hard lumps and area surrounding the wound, marring the smooth skin of his back.

It had been years. Years since he had last seen her and years since he had seen his son. But he still remembered her face. As his sanity began to slip through his grasp, he remembered her face, their son in her arms. And Edan was fine.

Taking a shaky breath, Edan looked up and saw a familiar face gaze at him through the door’s bars. 

He tensed. 

A set of blue eyes locked with his green ones. Edan had grown used to the judgement and accusations thrown his way. None of the guards cared whether he lived or died after he was imprisoned, sometimes spilling or forgetting to bring his food. Bouts of illness came and went with the horrendous conditions of his cell. Still, he survived.

Because he had to.

Slowly, Edan went silent as his song came to a halt. Then he smiled. "Hi, Runi."

Runaan's lips twisted in a grimace. Still, Edan pushed on, pretending they were merely childhood friends seeing each other after eternity apart. "How are Lain and Tiadrin? Has Rayla started training yet?" 

After a moment of silence, he played along. "They got accepted to the Dragon Guard, Rayla is coming to stay with me while they're gone."

Edan's smile grew broader. "That's good for them, that's what they've always wanted," he said, even though a pang of jealousy struck his heart. They were a family, yet they willingly separated themselves from their child for duty . At the thought, he remembered the words he spat the last time Runaan visited a year ago. “You and Ethari seem to be doing well and Rayla already loves you both very much. Do you have any pictures? Drawings?”

Runaan gave a long drawn out sigh as if tiring of this illusion he allowed his old friend to feign ignorance they both didn’t know what he was truly here for. But then his eyes softened and he reached for the pouch at his belt, taking out a small, folded piece of paper and holding it out through the bars. Edan took it and opened it, laughing at the sight before him.

A crude, childish drawing of two elves wearing mock versions of the dragon guard uniforms, and he recognized the familiar braid Lain often had hanging from his hair even if the rest of his hair was cropped short. Beside them was a smaller stick drawing of an elf who he assumed was little Rayla, and on her other side was Runaan (he could tell from the exaggerated length of hair) and his husband judging from the bands on the horns, bands he could also see in the dim light of Runaan’s horns when Edan looked up at him.

“Sorry I missed the wedding,” he chuckled, swallowing back the tears. Then he showed him the drawing. “Very flattering of you, by the way.”

The Moonshadow allowed himself a twitch of the lips in what was almost a smile. Then, he gave a heavy sigh. “ _ Edan _ .”

Edan’s shoulders automatically tensed and he hissed at the pain there that came with the motion. “I told you once and I told you a million times, I’m not telling you where he is.” His voice came out resigned, emotionless. Even if he did speak, what would he have out there? No one was ever going to trust him again, wherever he went, he would be looked at with disdain, worse than dirt. And it wasn’t like he could ever fly away from it like he had once before.

To quote a popular Moonshadow saying, He was already dead.

“Then I can’t help you,” said Runaan, and he almost sounded pained. “You broke our laws. Just tell them she manipulated you, that it was all a mistake.” Sparing a glance toward him, Edan caught Runaan’s head bowed, refusing to meet his eyes. “She was a human who used your own loneliness for her own ends.”

Edan laughed. It started quiet but grew until it echoed all around. A hysterical, crazed laugh as if Runaan had told a quite funny joke. 

The Moonshadow elf winced. His laughter told of cracks fracturing the stability of his mind from his time locked away, cracks that would likely never heal even if he was let out someday. 

“You can never believe anything that goes against what you’re taught, can you?” Edan asked, laughter still in his tone, a grin stretched across his lips. “Because then what do you have to hide behind to give yourself an excuse for your own actions?” At Runaan’s guarded look, Edan went on. “Oh, come on, you think you can hide it from me? I’m the one who who had to give you tea to keep your lunch down after you made your first kill. I’m the one who you used to talk to about all your nightmares. I’m the one who you used to tell all your little fears when we were children. You think that just because we grew apart, I ever forgot that?” 

Silence. Instead, he said, “You were never as strong as the others; it wouldn’t have taken long for a human to notice and take advantage of your kindness.”

A scoff left Edan’s lips. “And that’s why I’m still alive? They think I was put under some spell?”

“It’s not something I would put past their kind.”

“Would our union not have bode well for peace?”

"It's not natural !” Runaan snapped. “Your naivety is going to ruin lives. Starting with your own. And already you've done a good job of that."

“How dare you.” Edan’s eyes flared with pain and hurt. “All that’s happened, and you have the nerve to come here during my lowest hour to tell me to my face that I deserved this . You stand there and tell me that not having the heart to kill a defenseless woman was wrong, that falling in love with her was wrong. That our son was wrong. That following my heart instead of your prejudices was wrong. That having hope for a future where we are united and have peace is wrong. Well, if nothing changes, we will all perish in the end with the force of our own hatred! So don’t you dare stand there and judge me! If you hate me so much, then just say it! ” 

For a moment, Edan thought he saw the carefully placed mask Runaan had placed over his true feelings splinter. Then his shoulders slumped forward and he bowed his head. “I don’t hate you,” he said so quietly Edan almost missed. “I could never hate you.” 

Edan didn’t answer, his gaze searing. There was no sympathy left in his already shredded and broken heart. Not for a long time.

As long as his son was safe, nothing else mattered.

“I just want my son raised someplace safe. That's not going to change." 

“And he will never be safe if people know his father is a traitor, much less his mother if he looks anything less than human!” When Edan opened his mouth, Runaan continued before he could. “Admit you were deceived, and no one would blame you. The thing is no longer here anyhow."

"No one would blame me." Even at the thought, Edan scoffed. "Once accused, always suspected. No matter what truth is told, the rumors will paint me as treasonous. All things considered, I'm just glad I was allowed to keep my head attached to my neck." 

"And you think you cares, wherever she may be?" demanded Runaan with narrowed eyes. "You think she gave one thought about you after she ran? To her, you were just a means to an end to help her escape Xadia alive. If it looks anything other than human, the child will die by someone's hand eventually if not ours." 

Edan looked down, felt the ache in his shoulder blades as he moved. "We all do many things to survive and to protect others," he choked out as he squeezed his eyes shut. "They had a chance. That’s all I asked for. I've made my choice. Not even you can make me change it."

“I don’t suppose I can ask you to trust me anymore — and I wouldn’t blame you. But listen when I say you are making the wrong one.” 

Edan stared into the Moonshadow’s face for a long moment, both in two completely opposite worlds on each side of the bars. On Runaan’s, a world where he trusted his unique childhood friend. Where they could run off and play in the moonlit meadow and forests for a lifetime, where they never grew up nor ever apart. And on Edan’s, a world where as far as he was concerned, both Xadia and the human kingdoms could all go to hell.

Edan looked to the stone wall where there wasn’t even a window for him to see the moonlight or feel the wind on his face. His voice was quiet. “I still don’t regret any of the choices I’ve made, because they made me happy, even if it was only for a while.” He turned back to Runaan, tears in his eyes as he smiled. “And if it made me happy, it wasn’t quite a waste, was it?”

Runaan left soon after that. As he disappeared, Edan gave a heavy sigh and turned back to the wall, taking out a small, folded drawing that he had hidden under a dirty, thin blanket that did nothing to fend off the chill. Unfolding it, he gazed upon the faces he had drawn before he was captured, that he had drawn so no matter what, he would never forget that moment, how happy he had been before everything fell apart. 

The sketch was of a man and a woman with a child in their arms. 

Edan’s heart panged at the sight of her as it still did since he heard of her passing. Beside her, a young man sat where Edan had drawn him the best he could. Horns curled past his hair and though one wing was curled into his back, the other was wrapped around the human woman as he gazed at her with such love and admiration as could be portrayed in charcoal. And the child in their arms….

“I’ll see you soon, Callum, my little dove,” he whispered into the nothingness. “I swear it, I will see you again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning is actually taking place only a few days after Harrow's assassination, but otherwise, sorry if this isn't the best but I had a case of writer's block that hopefully will get better. Hope this chapter isn't too bad! :)

The only source of light in the dark hallway was the dim flames of the torches.

As the guards approached with the prisoner’s daily food and water, his haunting song drifted up in a crystalline, soothing voice despite its words. 

_ “Trapped and can’t escape _

_ You’ve cut my wings and locked me in a cage _

_ It’s sad how you decide our fate, _

_ I’m feeling cold and dead inside” _

One of them held up a hand. “Allow me to deal with him. Go back to your post.”

Their partner attempted to protest, but they only said, “Please, he’s the least threatening one in here. And he’s far too weak to be any more dangerous than a baby earthworm.”

Staring at them a moment, finally their partner nodded his head and handed them the tray before leaving them alone. 

Taking a quick look around once he was gone, they stepped forward until they were before the bars of the prisoner in question whose dark silhouette was now twirling and going through the steps of a dance, only his shadow keeping company. His eerie yet beautiful song still bounced off the walls but the lyrics had changed. He always did that. After a while, the rest of the guards had begun questioning if he did it on purpose to creep them out. In all honesty, they couldn’t blame him if that was the reason; what other source of entertainment did he have?

_ “ _ _ Dive down deep into her sound _

_ But not too far or you'll be drowned” _

The guard set down the tray and removed their helmet. “Good evening.”

He didn’t stop, hardly even acknowledged their presence.

_ “ _ _ But can you brave what you most fear? _

_ Can you face what the river knows?” _

“I snuck you some fruit. Might bring some flavor.” They nudged the tray forward with their foot toward the small opening.

_ “Come, my darling, homeward bound _

_ When all is lost, then all is found” _

“I heard some news about the mission in Katolis.” 

Abruptly, the song stopped, the figure dancing in the darkness froze, slowly coming out of their position to turn around, bright green eyes nearly glowing in the darkness.

Storm nodded their head at his sudden acknowledgement. They had taken pity upon seeing him their first day working in the prison. They couldn’t imagine whatever he had done to deserve a punishment like his. He was quiet, never caused trouble or tried to escape, unlike the other prisoners. He didn’t practice dark magic; if he did, he would show the signs most elves gained after using it long enough since though rare for them to use it, elves used themselves as their own ingredients. Whenever he was brought food, he either didn’t acknowledge the guards to begin with or gave a simple ‘thank you’ before taking it and going back to whatever he had been doing before they’d disturbed his peace.

So they ended up talking to him, growing more sympathetic when he seemed more happy for their company regardless of how their job was to keep him inside, always asking about their family, encouraging them to talk to the pretty Sunfire girl they had been trying to get up the nerve to do so, curious about whatever was happening on the outside world. For some reason, at the mention of the assassination mission on Katolis and their king, he had centered in on that, needing to know more about it and asking about all the details Storm knew.(which wasn’t much).

“The king of Katolis has fallen, and his sons were thought dead until news came that they are, in fact, alive, but missing. Our spies even say that they are traveling with one of those sent to kill them.”

Silence. He tilted his head, his green eyes suddenly bright for the first time in all the time they’d seen him. “The princes of Katolis, yes? Both of them?”

“Yes.” It came out uncertain, more a question than a statement as they twisted their fingers. They had no clue why. If anything, Edan had been sweet and docile for someone in his position, so much so it was unnerving. “Yes. Prince Ezran and Prince Callum.”

The intensity of his gaze made them wonder if they should go back now. But then his face broke into a smile. “Thank you. You’re such a sweetheart.” Then he stepped forward and reached forward through the bars, and his hand lingered on their shoulder. “It just gets a little boring here. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for keeping me company.” With zero further ado, he took the food from the tray and retreated back to his corner, showing he was done talking today.

Storm furrowed their eyebrows. Usually, he was more talkative. But then they shrugged and moved on, going back to their position before their partner began to wonder what was keeping them so long.

As he was left alone again, Edan gave a long sigh. “Good kid.” He lifted the pouch he’d snatched off their belt with his free hand while they’d been distracted. Taking out a set of keys, he gave a soft sigh and shook his head. “But terrible guard. Really should look into another job.” 

* * *

Callum had no idea why Rayla was afraid of Sol Regem. But considering the fact Rayla rarely ever showed she was  _ scared _ , he wasn’t planning on sticking around to find out. 

They’d been running for two hours now, and his legs were killing him.

“How did you  _ forget to mention _ the giant dragon king guy?!”

“It’s not that I  _ forgot _ \--”

“Rayla! Big. Dragon!”

“He’s not usually  _ here _ ! Well, he’s here, but not  _ here _ here!”

Rayla was a blur in front and nearly out of sight as she leapt onto every obstacle in their path without noticing.

“Well, considering we’re not  _ dead _ yet...do...you think we can stop...now?” Callum asked, breathless. 

Rayla spun around and slid on her back foot to a stop. She didn’t look convinced.

“You saw how big Sol Regem is, right? You think he couldn’t keep up with us?”

Callum rushed to catch up with her. Once he reached her, he noticed she didn’t look tired at all. Hadn’t even broken a sweat! “Sol...whatever his name is, was stuck in that arch last we saw him! We have a head start on him. So do you think...we could take...a  _ short break?! _ ” He clutched at the stitch in his chest, willing himself to breath. He ignores the slight awareness pressing at the back of his mind of every breath of air filling and leaving her lungs, out of his own, Zym’s, and something else that he wasn’t so eager to explore.

So he ignored the constant presence and shoved it to the back of his mind, focusing on her.

Rayla looked at Callum for a long moment before taking a quick glance around at their surroundings. They were still far from safety, but still a lot closer to a place she remembered where they could at least rest the night before making it the rest of the way. She looked down at the small baby dragon Zym resting in her arms. The Dragon Prince glared back up at her and mewled plaintively. At first, Zym had half-ran and half-glided, but once he began to tire, Rayla couldn’t risk losing him, and so had grabbed him and hoisted him over her shoulder. Like most younglings of any species, Zym hadn’t taken well to being bounced around for extended periods of time. In all honesty, she was lucky he hadn’t zapped her yet.

Rayla glanced between both exhausted princes before giving a heavy sigh. “Okay, okay.” She pointed ahead. “Just a bit further ahead that way before we can stop, alright?”

“Great. That’s...great,” Callum sighed.

“We still need to keep moving, though if we want to avoid Sol Regem. We certainly don’t want to get caught out in the open like this.” Her voice left no room for argument.

“Trust me. Getting roasted is not on my to-do-list.”

“Besides, if we want to keep up the pace, we  _ both _ need the rest.”

“...Right,” Callum mumbled, unconvinced.

Once again, Rayla took off, this time at a slower space, and Callum just barely managed to convince his feet to hurry up just a bit more.

And if he noticed the ache in his back, he thought nothing of it among the ache in his lungs and legs. 

* * *

Callum collapsed against the ground with an unceremonious  _ thud _ . Zym squirmed out of Rayla’s arms and found a patch of grass, rolling onto his back to gaze up at the leaves and rays of sun peeking through the trees above. They seemed safe, for now, Rayla thought as she took a quick glance around their surroundings. Big trees, soft grass, and if her ears didn’t deceive her, there was a stream somewhere near. 

She remembered it from when her team had traveled to Katolis. Like then, they had rested in this place before readying to cross Sol Regem’s path in case they came across him. Though the ex-king wasn’t the worst, he also wasn’t one you wanted to speak to unless it was absolutely necessary, whether your reason for leaving or entering Xadia was valid or not. It was the reason most just preferred to sneak past him the best they could.

Old Sunshine may have been made blind by the dark fire of Dark Magic, but that didn’t mean the rest of his senses no longer remained intact.

Still, like Callum said, they weren’t dead quite yet. So, she stretched and lowered herself to the forest floor, remaining alert yet allowing herself to relax just the slightest.

As Callum finally regained his breath, taking off his jacket (propriety be damned, he was burning up), he was quickly enchanted with all the magic around him. Every tree bloomed into hundreds of different flowers, each a different hue. Vibrant blues and greens faded to reds and violets so dark they were almost black. Some glowed in the soft sunlight, and some alternated between colors every few seconds, going from black to every color until reach white before repeating again. Even the smell was different, so intoxicating it almost hurt his nose.

“Thought you might like it,” Rayla chuckled, sitting up to watch her human friend stare at them in awe. She knew he would love Xadia, after all, it was nothing but magic, and magic had always fascinated him. Rayla had grown up with this, Callum hadn’t, and she knew he would want to see  _ everything _ . She was even more excited, and nervous, to show him her home, the Silvergrove. None of them would take the idea of a human in their village well, much less a prince of Katolis.

Just barely managing to tear his gaze away to settle on Rayla, a smile on his lips. “It’s amazing." That really didn't cover it. It was _beautiful,_ every bit of it. To think, in the span of two weeks, Callum had helped hatch a dragon egg, connected to the Sky Primal, and now he was in Xadia. It just felt... _right_ , for some reason. He took another glance around and his smile dropped the slightest. “So, now what?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re in Xadia, so what’s the next step here?”

“Now, we make our way to the Dragon Queen, assuming we’ll be able to get an audience with her. It shouldn’t be too hard with…” She tilted her head towards Zym. “Just might take a while.”

“Ah-huh. And how much is ‘a while?’” Callum asked, drawing his knees to his chest as he sat up as well.

“A few more weeks, at least,” Rayla mused aloud. “A month at most, hopefully. Xadia is larger to navigate than one human kingdom. Not to mention we’ll have to take different pathways to avoid any other villages after the Silvergrove.” 

“Maybe we won’t have to.” Smiling, Callum picked up a pair of nearby twigs and put them upon his head. “You’ve heard of Human Rayla, now get ready to meet…” He paused for dramatic effect before whirling around to show her. “Elf Callum.”

Rayla slapped a hand to her forehead. “No.  _ Please _ no.”

“Oh, come on, you haven’t even seen the final product.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Just let me get into character.”

This was payback for  _ Human Rayla _ , wasn’t it? Rayla couldn’t bring herself to look as she pinched the bridge of her nose. 

Callum took a deep breath and turned around, taking a moment to put the finishing touches on his disguise as he grabbed the cloak Rayla had used and flipped it over his head. Then he turned around and grinned. “G’day, fellow elf mates!” he exclaimed. “I sure do love being an elf and showing off how athletic I am to my fellow elf pals!”

Rayla was definitely not covering her face now to hide the smile growing on her face. She  _ wasn’t _ . She was  _ not _ encouraging this. She did  _ not _ talk like that! “Okay, I think that’s enough.”

“Watch me as I do a bunch of unnecessary flips to show off how cool and nimble I am!”

“Callum.”

“Hello, fellow elf friend. High four!” Callum held up a hand, sticking two of his fingers together to give the appearance of one. 

“No.” She shoved his hand away. “We’re not doing that.”

“Aw, why?” Callum pouted. 

“You don’t want me to go there,” deadpanned Rayla, clearly displeased.

“Oh.”

“Besides, there’s only so long before someone’s going to notice you’re missing a few things. Or, you know, that you’ve got one too many.” She held up a hand, wiggling all four fingers.

Callum mirrored her, lifting a hand before wiggling his pinkies. “Oh, yeah,” he chuckled nervously. 

“Of course, it’s not a bad idea, just don’t do that voice. _Ever_ ,” Rayla said. She stood up and sized him up. Unless anyone were to look too close, it wasn’t like anyone would be able to tell right away. A pair of gloves and the branches beneath a hood to give the illusion of horns, and maybe, just maybe, well, it wouldn’t exactly be a  _ good _ disguise, but passable at best. There were earthblood elves with Callum’s complexion, and even some mixed-clan elves. If they kept a low profile, it shouldn’t be too noticeable. Unless Callum opened his big mouth.

“So you know exactly where we're going from here?"

Rayla's drew in a deep breath. “Well, hope you don’t mind, but I was planning on stopping by the Silvergrove. Just for a night to rest and get ourselves together,” she said, unable to stop the excited grin on her face. “Ethari might understand if he just let me explain.”

“Wait, who? Where?” asked Callum. “Little lost here.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Silvergrove. The village I grew up in. And as for Ethari, well, he's my uncle.”

“The...one who killed my dad?”

Rayla tensed, internally smacking herself. “Uh, no, not Runaan. I'm talking about his husband, Ethari, my _other_ uncle. It might take a while to understand, but if I know he’ll listen. He's always had faith in me.” She turned her head to look ahead as if she could see their destination. “We’d be passing by the Silvergrove anyway since it’s on the way. If we’re lucky, we should reach it by tomorrow.”

Zym clambered up onto Callum’s shoulders, giving an inquisitive chirp. “Yeah, little buddy, I’m sure we can find you some food there, too,” Callum chuckled. Only way left to now was forward.


	3. Chapter 3

Callum didn’t realize how exhausted Rayla probably was until her eyes slid shut and her breathing slowed, days of taking first and last watch during their trek to Xadia finally taking its toll. If she wasn’t, she likely wouldn’t have let Callum take watch since despite protests, Rayla had always insisted on it, opposed to letting Ezran or Callum - Callum especially even after Ezran had left - lose too much sleep, you know, considering they were “weak, subcentury-lifespan humans.”

Not even once throughout the night, did Rayla wake up from her dead sleep. Which was something Callum both found bemusing and couldn’t help being thankful for. Bemusing because this is the first time he’d seen her sleep so deeply without being on high alert, and thankful because he himself knocked out at some point in the night, and he’s pretty sure she would have strangled him if she’d woken up to find no one on watch.

They had gone on a bit further before deciding to camp out for the night, Rayla determined to stick to their schedule. Zym was a lump of limbs and scales, pressing his entire body against Callum’s thigh and resting his little dragon head on Callum’s lap. A truly adorable sight, and one he felt immensely guilty for when he has to push the dragon off his lap, but he really needs to go, and Zym seems very determined to stay right where he is.

When he finally managed to free himself, Zym simply snorted, licked Callum’s hand once, and tucked his head back under his wing. Callum was suddenly reminded greatly of Ezran and his miraculous ability to remain asleep no matter the circumstance (Harrow used to joke Ezran could sleep straight through a parade under the window).

Quietly, he closed his sketchbook, having already drawn a few sketches of Zym and Rayla sleeping, of some of the flora and fauna around them, some very interesting-looking plant. Twenty minutes later after a much needed break, he meant to originally go back but he ended up distracted by the sight of a deer - or at least, what looked like one. It stood taller than a horse with vibrant teal fur and glowing horns, like algae on the Katolis shoreline at night. A soft tune that was just far enough he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was sounded in the distant. Probably just a bird. Callum committed the sight to memory to sketch it down later before finally remembering he had to get back. Preferably before Rayla woke up.

A still-cautious part of him was curious if he could still pinpoint Rayla and Zym’s breathing all the way over here like he’d been able to since connecting to the Sky Arcanum. He’d become so accustomed to the sensation of the presence of their breath circling their lungs over the last and a half that not having it a constant whisper at the back of his head made him uneasy. He closed his eyes and searched for it, clearing his head, searching for any air at all, a breeze, a gust, even a sigh - and discovered the racing in-and-out breaths of a treefrog a mile away, the quick-paced measure of a bird gliding high above, the slow-soft air of a turtle surfacing in a pond a meter away.

The leisurely inhale and exhale of lungs half a mile away.  _ Not _ just some random animal.

Callum jerked and his eyes shot open. It was then that he realized that the soft tune he had heard distantly hadn’t been one of Xadia’s many strange creatures. Unsure whether to follow it or not, he glanced behind. Still, he took a step forward in the direction, and then another.

After a few minutes, the tune turned to distant, faint words of a song sung in a voice that was pure and lovely yet eerie in the darkness of night. He didn't recognize the language, but from the emotion behind it, the words had to mean _ something _ important.

_ “A naoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth _

_ Mise ri d' thaobh, Ó mhaighdean bhàn” _

Probably just a harmless traveler, right? Wouldn’t hurt to check.

_ "Ar rìbhinn òg, fàs a's faic _

_ Do thìr, dìleas fhéin" _

Something about it just felt…familiar. Like the fuzzy memory of a dream.

Callum followed the direction of the sound with his eyes until he caught a dark silhouette sitting among the high branches of a tree, leaning against the trunk, knees drawn to their chest. Their song died down to a soothing hum as they seemed to soak in the moonlight. “I’d forgotten what the sky looked like.” Callum started as he realized they were talking to him. Though he couldn’t see their face, they turned around to stare at him with green eyes that almost glowed in the dark. Then they giggled as if they’d heard a joke their eyes didn’t quite hear. “Elves are hypocrites, you know that? Always on their little high horse, thinking they’re so much  _ better _ than everyone else. But they’re so busy calling humans weak, unworthy, and  _ stupid _ that they completely dismiss their own flaws, not only as individuals but as a society.” 

They giggled again, their voice growing mocking. “They preach  _ nonstop _ about  _ ‘honor’ _ and  _ ‘justice _ ,’ yet never look past their own black and white view of the world to see both sides of the argument. Moonshadow, of course, are the  _ worst _ . Sunfire at least give you a trial, but Moonwalkers, no, no, no.” Laughter in their tone, they shook their head as if talking about a disobedient little child. “On one little assumption, they’re willing to banish and imprison you regardless of how old you are or what the full story is. Just ask your elf friend.” In a sudden swing of moods, their voice became biting as they snapped, “Just  _ see _ what’s waiting her back home. They don’t care to hear what really happened, they don’t try to see from your point of view; they only make assumptions or all they need is one teeny, weeny detail that goes against their beliefs, and then they condemn you for life.”

Uncertain, Callum began to open his mouth, wondering whether his opinion was wanted or not, only to freeze. “How did you know--”

“Your elf companion looks just like her parents. I may have only met little Rayla once, but I can see them in her.” Their tone turned cheerful again within the blink of an eye, not a hint of malice inhabiting any longer. “And most importantly, I can see her uncle in her. Careful if she’s like him in personality, too, I know from experience it’s hard to sleep with a knife in your back. Or, you know, it could be damage sustained from certain moonwalkers not being able to keep their little mouths shut.”

“Uh…” Callum took a step back, pondering the wisdom of his decision more and more. At the sound, the figure suddenly hooked their legs over the wide branch they sat upon to swoop down so they hung upside down with their long braid dangling past their head and their arms folded across their chest.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I hope wherever he is, he’s happy. Or he’s burning in hell.” They shrugged. “It changes from day to day. When it comes down to it, I’ll let the ancients decide.” Then they tilted their head and their eyes squinted, and Callum suddenly realized he wasn’t wearing any disguise. “You’re the human prince, aren’t you?” Pure glee entered their voice and crossed their face. “What’s your name?”

“Uh, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Callum chuckled nervously, using his fake accent, forgetting a moment what Rayla had said. “I’m just a simple elf who likes the simple elf things. Like sparring and talking about how dumb humans are.” He attempted a smile, backing up with each word.

They giggled again. “No, you’re no elf.” Their voice lowered to a loud whisper as they giggled, “But you’re no human either, Little Dove.” Suddenly their eyes cleared as they examined his face for a long moment, and their tone became so earnest and soft. “You look just like your mother.

At that, Callum’s eyes widened and he was quick to draw the rune in the air before the spell came out, quick and easy as if he’d always been able to. “ _ Fulmonis!” _ Eyes wide, they rapidly pulled themselves up and disappeared from sight before the lightning hit them, but it was clear the message had gotten across. Callum turned to run back the direction he went, stumbling over his feet.

Once he was gone, Edan huffed and leaned down again, blowing out any hair that had gotten in his face. “Rude,” he sniffed. “Definitely got that from Sarai.” Already, he could remember their first meeting, how even though he had only dropped in to help when he saw she was injured, she had threatened to cut him from nose to navel and probably would have stabbed him if he hadn’t gotten out of the way in time.

Then he took a moment to muse aloud to himself, “Did I come on too strong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edan: *literally gets shot at by his own son* Yeah, that's Sarai's boy.


	4. Chapter 4

Elves were a species of purity. 

It was a reason that his union was Sarai had been seen as such a horrendous thing. It was why when they found out he had a son with said human, the Council had shook with rage, and what had simply been a punishment for harboring a human, something that at least might have cost his wings and banishment from Xadia, became so much more. Especially when he refused to tell them where Sarai had gone with Callum or that it was his brother escorting them out of Xadia.

Still, even beforehand, Edan had been both fortunate and unfortunate enough to learn that lesson early in his childhood. Elvenkind were all about purity. Purity in soul (how ironic, he thought now wryly considering one clan raised their children to be literal weapons), purity in mind, and purity in _blood_. 

Mixed-clan elves may have become more common and more accepted in recent years, but they had been quite the opposite in his youth. Scorn and mockery were earned for being _half_ instead of whole, as if that somehow made him _lesser_ than them. His grandparents on both sides were strangers due to their collective rage at his mother and father’s union, the Moon and Sky shaking their heads in disapproval at his birth. Moonshadow elves in his village would whisper that their marriage was doomed even if his pure-blooded Skywing brother from their father’s previous marriage would attempt to shield his ears from them. In some places, when he was younger, his mother couldn't even hold his hand without both being asked questions since he looked so different than her.

Almost none offered sympathy when his mother's lotus sank in the pond during a mission gone wrong. Almost no one held tribute to his father's memory when he was killed protecting a group of students from rogue elves. Few cared for the pair that 'tainted the purity of their bloodline,' though they had been good people, good parents, his father's good heart the reason for his death, his mother's loyalty to Xadia despite how her village and family spat upon her for her choices being her own undoing.

Like the moon, Moonshadow elves followed a cycle in a rigid society shaped by rituals and duties, and if you couldn't complete them as tradition demanded, you were looked down upon for not being enough, for not being _strong enough_ , as if there was only one kind of strength. Each person had one role to fulfill at any cost. Failure was not even a possibility, mistakes punished severely. What little differences Edan showed even when he _tried_ to be the perfect Moonshadow despite being reminded constantly he was only _half_ , not _pure_ and whole like them, caused him to be easily dismissed, and sometimes even despised. Especially if what made him unique was what defined him as weaker compared to the rest.

Physically speaking, having Moonshadow blood and his wings should have made him stronger, a good potential candidate for a spy at the very least. But he refused to be a weapon or to use any of his “talents” to hurt anyone; he didn’t like the sight of blood, and don’t even get him started on _bones_. Though he had mainly overcome his childhood fear, he still shuddered at the image of them in his mind. 

Therefore, a majority of his youth was spent either being dismissed or having the teachers being twice as hard on him as the others in an effort to make him strong. 

And that was why, one thing that made his imprisonment just a touch easier, was that Edan had never been a stranger to loneliness.

And also why he had always been someone easy to take advantage of and trick. When one was desperate for affection and company, much less a child, they were willing to do almost anything to gain and keep it. Even if it mostly ended in getting a kick in the face when they showed their true colors. Because of course, Edan could never learn his lesson no matter how many times he got hurt, easy to forgive, easy to manipulate for a bit of kindness and the ploy of false friendship, and easy to _step all over_.

Desperate to please since he began to worry if he didn’t, they’d leave him, that if he tried to be good enough and do what they wanted, they’d _stay_. He remembered how when he first did gain an actual friend, they had to keep reminding him he was allowed to say “no,” if he ever felt uncomfortable with anything. 

Fat lot of good it did. All the things he had done in his life to be good enough, to just be _enough_ for people to stay and like him, to be enough so they would see that just because he was _half_ did _not_ mean he was lesser, years of letting people treat him however they wanted without saying a word because he didn’t want them to leave even if he disagreed with so much of their views, and for all of them, he had ended up here. No better than if he had actually stood up for himself just once.

Perhaps that was why it was so easy for the other elves to believe he had been manipulated and tricked by Sarai, after all, others had done it, why would she be any different? To them, they probably thought all it had taken was her showing him a bit of kindness and false promises of love for him to fall. It had happened before, why not now?

But Sarai had been different. Of course, though, Runaan had rolled his eyes at that, because it wasn’t exactly the first time Edan had said those words in defense of someone only using him ( _“I think this one’s different.” “But, Runi, I’m_ sure _this time is different.” “I know this one is different, she’d never hurt me.”_ ) only to be proven wrong each time.

Yet Sarai had _actually_ been different. That Edan knew as he looked down at the drawing of her. So nice and so _sincere_. Upfront and honest, never played any games, and who had just been so helpful and grounded. Romance had never been what Edan had looked for, just a friend who genuinely cared and understood, not chemistry. She hadn’t even known what he was until she found out for herself, and when she did, she didn’t laugh, she didn’t look at him in disgust, never said he had to change, said she loved him just as he was, made him feel like...he didn’t have to perfect. To her, he… he was enough. She respected his boundaries, allowed him to have different opinions and make his own choices. 

He hadn’t even been looking for nothing more other than a friend until she kissed him. And though he hadn’t been quite so sure...he didn’t want her to lose her. He knew she had to leave soon, but if he had said no then, she would have withdrawn, put a barrier between them, and he didn’t want to lose her as a friend. So he kissed back and let her take the reins.

After all...he did care for her, didn’t he? He liked her, cared for her, thought of her as one of his closest friends, someone he could tell anything to, thought her beautiful, was willing to go whatever lengths for her that was needed. That was what love was...wasn’t it?

Before she had done any of that, though, he had been drawn to her because of the strength she radiated. 

Despite the stories he’d heard, he’d truly found humans fascinating, how they thrived without being born with magic, in a land devoid of magic. How could they be inferior if they managed to survive even through all that? Meanwhile, everyone continued to say how weak humans were compared to them and that it was their weakness and lack of resolve leading to dark magic. How it was their race’s laziness and inability making them turn to shortcuts, taking just to prove they could, how humans should be grateful the Dragon King had been “merciful” enough to not just wipe them all out.

Yet, how could a human be inferior if they were born with nothing, no power, no primal connection, no magic… and still managed to keep on surviving? Xadia had plants and herbs and magic in its very air, and a lot of things came with ease to its inhabitants, but humans had nothing and still managed to build themselves up to be as strong if not stronger than elves. If they weren’t, it was likely Xadia would have stomped their race out a long time ago.

Besides…. Humans may have turned to dark magic.

Only, however, because Xadia had left them to die. Yet then chose to cast them out when they grabbed onto any footholds they could in order to survive.

To assume that Xadia was completely blameless in the creation of dark magic and the Divide would be pure arrogance.

And hypocritical. Dark Magic was despised due to it taking the life of another living creature regardless of what it was. And, well, gee, what was it exactly assassins did? Oh, yeah… _take lives_ . Edan couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him. Oh, wait, no, that’s wrong, because Moonshadow assassins take lives ‘ _for justice_ ,’ which obviously makes it okay.

And if “everything,” happened to contain a connection a Primal Source, by merely eating what was around them, they were “killing,” something alive with Primal magic for their own sustenance. 

Laughter bubbled up his throat at the thought.

He wasn’t trying to say that Dark Magic wasn’t a _bad_ thing, it was, but he could not deny that sometimes it _was_ necessary, in some degrees it was _acceptable_ even, as long as there was a line. Almost all arguments against it was the same and a touch flimsy considering by that description they were doing the exact same thing just in a less destructive way. No, if they were going to preach about the horribleness of dark magic, maybe not focus on that one aspect, maybe try arguing about the other side effects. Dark Magic didn’t just use the life of another in exchange for power, it _destroyed_ it along with those around it; in the history he had read in his youth, Dark Magic _could_ be used responsibly at the price of a creature’s life, but the thing was, dark magic drew not only from the one creature but the life force of all those around as well as the mage themselves. It was damaging to the soul, mind, and body of both the users and any who had been around it long enough. Lines that had been drawn before soon became nonexistent the more it was used.

The first time alone could kill a beginner mage if they weren’t careful enough and hadn’t been trained beforehand.

Perhaps he was looking too deep into it, but well, that was their fault for leaving him with no one to talk to and nothing to do but stare at the ceiling for fifteen years and reside within his own head. One tends to think a little too deeply on everything if given enough time to dwell on it. 

Another giggle almost burst out and he lightly slapped himself to cut it off. And again when that didn't work. He had to get a grip on himself, needed to calm down. Needed to focus.

If one thing had stuck with him out of years of lessons, even if he rejected them later on in lieu of what made _him_ happy, was lessons on how to track creatures both magical and non, and he fell back on that. Of course, it hurt, hurt like a bitch with how long it had been since Edan had been exposed to the moon, how long it had been since he’d been able to connect with his mother’s primal even as weak as his connection was compared to the sky. 

His eyes were bleeding. Burning and painful as he forced magic into his eyes, green eyes glowing white, his pulse too quick and an ache building in his chest. He knew that channeling this large an amount of Primal Energy into his eyes was dangerous, especially for prolonged amounts of time such as the past few hours he’d been looking.

But he had to find them.

Edan blinked away red, focusing on the energy signatures pulsing everywhere around him, the energy of magic that ran through anything and everything and what made up Xadia itself. As he searched along the trail where he had first seen the boy -- his son he managed to scare off because he couldn’t keep it together -- he eventually discovered pulsing signatures of the Sky and Moon, though the former was significantly fainter than little Rayla’s, and fainter than his own, almost invisible in the damned rising light of day, but expected. Callum had obviously taken more after his mother. What did surprise Edan was the erratic energy signatures of Sky he hadn’t anticipated. Each was unique to one person but this, on the other hand, was unlike anything he’d seen before, zapping and swirling about like that of a storm.

The magic from his eyes began to fade, and he closed them for a brief moment before forcing them open and pushed it back in place. It felt like pouring acid into his eyes.

If he wanted to catch them before their traces began to fade, he needed to act fast. There was probably no reason to bother anymore at this point. But he knew if he was caught again, he would receive a much more effective, _permanent_ punishment for running from his previous sentencing.

He didn’t care for his own life. He was already dead. 

But he had a responsibility to his son. To Sarai. 

He owed it to her above everything.

As he forced the magic into his veins and eyes, he tasted the blood dripping down his cheeks into his mouth.

For a split second, his vision went completely dark.

He owed it to them.

* * *

“Well, with any luck, it was just a lone rogue elf. They aren't as dangerous as the others you'll find in groups.”

It was sunrise by the time the trio made it to the edge of the Silvergrove. A lot earlier than Rayla had anticipated but Callum had woken her up a few hours ago, claiming that someone had seen him. Though she had been miffed he had let her fall asleep, she was also slightly grateful, just as she was that he’d woken her up in the first place. If it hadn’t felt as good as it had to be able to rest without pain and the threat of danger for ten minutes, she would have been as urgent to leave as he had been at the time.

“Rogue elf?” Callum repeated, checking for Zym as he snapped at a butterfly flying above his head before following them. “Those exist?”

“Well...yeah.” Rayla hesitated. “They’re mostly elves who don’t belong to any clans, who were kicked out or ran away. Mostly for doing dark magic or for not...being right.”

“For…. Wait, elves have done dark magic?” Callum’s eyebrows rose.

She shook her head as her expression formed into one of disgust and anger. “Traitors,” she practically spat. “They have no problem using themselves or you or anyone else for it. Life means almost nothing to them. Even if they don’t use it themselves, they sell creatures and even other elves to Dark mages. One I even heard of sucks the souls of humans _and_ elves to grant them longer lives.” She then pointed to herself, her eyes narrowing. “When Runaan took me on a routine patrol to show me what it was like a few years ago, I wandered away from the group. A gang of rogues found me, and they probably would have killed me if he hadn’t come in time. Trust me, if you end up meeting some, it’s either fight or run.” She sighed. “The ones that don’t support dark magic are still dangerous. They were thrown out for a reason.”

Well, not all, but the younger ones stuck together in groups, and if you came across one, there was always at least half of them willing to cut you up if you came so much as within five feet of them.

Callum began to fall behind a few steps as he thought on her words. The one he came across didn’t seem _dangerous_ , per se, just _angry_ and maybe missing a few marbles, unnerving with their knowledge, but otherwise harmless. They had said Callum looked like his mother. How would they know that? His aunt _hated_ elves with a passion, and both she and her mother had fought against Xadia.

And while he supposed that any elves that had fought at the border would know Queen Sarai as a warrior, the way they sounded so certain was unnerving. Like they had actually known her. Plus, they knew _Rayla_ , her family, which meant they probably came from her village. And what had they meant by--

Callum hissed at the twinge in his shoulders. The ache had increased since the last use of the spell. Like livid bruises that stung to the touch. But it helped not to think about it too much, and the pain came and went as it pleased anyway. Probably just a side effect of weeks sleeping on the ground catching up to him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, blinking at him with a glimmer of concern. 

"Yeah, yeah," he shrugged. "It's nothing. So how much further until the Silvergrove?"

"We're right here!" The way she presented it with such excitement on her face almost made Callum reluctant to tell her all he saw were trees. 

“Um...I like it, it’s...modest,” he tried, receiving a heavy sigh in return from his elven companion.

“It’s hidden by an illusion,” she said in exasperation, gesturing to the open clearing before him. Then her lips curled into a smile as she stepped closer. “If you want to get in, there’s a special ritual that lets you see through it! Like a magic key!”

“Oh. So, uh, how do I get in, then?”

“By using my key.” Smiling, she got into a dance position, arms out to the side, much to Callum’s confusion. As he tried to copy her, she rolled her eyes and corrected his posture, moving his bag to the side. “Don’t worry, it’s easy. Just follow my lead.”

Stepping away from him once he seemed to get the gist, she got back into position and went through the steps of a dance. Callum tried his best to imitate her motions even as he stumbled over his own two feet and Zym as he bounded around them. He was nowhere close to her smooth, graceful gait, but he felt it was good enough from the runes that began to glow under his feet with each step he took. When he tripped yet again, she grabbed his hand, and didn’t let go, smiling at him as she laced their fingers and circled each other within the circle of glowing runes.

As he met her eyes, he felt his cheeks warm, the moment feeling peaceful, strange and charged all at once. Then his attention was caught by the apparating village as light surrounded the three of them before spreading out to the clearing, revealing houses and fountains, and elves walking about below them down the hill. When the glow faded away and the ritual was done, Rayla dashed forward, and a small part of Callum felt the loss of his hand on hers. As she looked back at him and beckoned him, he felt oddly bashful, blinking after her before following her, wondering why his heartbeat seemed so strange, and then ushered Zym into his bag, grabbing his cloak. He quickly placed the hood on his head as he caught up to her.

“This is it!” Rayla grinned, outstretching her arms to gesture all around her. “We’re home!”

Out of other Xadian villages one may come across, the Silvergrove may have seemed little more than a podunk little town. But to Callum, it was one of the most beautiful places he’d seen.

Some of the houses were on the ground, but others were atop trees, hills, mountains, surrounded by glowing white plants to light the way. To see the Moon Nexus, a place once important in history to elves and humans alike, had been astonishing, but it was another thing to see a Xadian village still full of life and people. 

Moonshadow elves of various ages walked about, and a group of Moonshadow children that ran past reminded him painfully of Ezran. Occasionally, he would see a Moonshadow dressed in traditional garb and colors but the hair was dark, or the horns would look different from the others walking by, or their skin didn’t have the same lilac tint to it that like the other’s he’d seen before. To see so many of them all at once was both exciting, and terrifying if they realized he wasn’t like them.

Until he noticed one little thing that was the same for all of them.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it!” Rayla gushed, Callum’s confusion going unnoticed. “I can’t wait to show you everything! Where I grew up, where I went to school— Oh, and I know where they make the _best_ Moonberry surprise—”

“Hang on, Rayla.” Her face fell as he grabbed her shoulder. “Something’s wrong.”

“What? What is it?”

“Look!” Callum pointed over her shoulder to where everyone was passing them by without so much of a second glance. At first, he thought it had been that everyone was simply to busy to pay attention to an elf and her friend, but now he could see why. On each and every person that passed, there was only a blank space where their faces were supposed to be. Everywhere they looked, it was the same. “They don’t have faces.”

Rayla’s eyes widened in horror as she took a step back, shaking her head. “Oh, no,” she breathed, her hand coming up her mouth. “No, no, _no_.”

“What’s wrong?” Callum demanded. 

“It’s me! I’m...I’m a ghost!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the first chapter, people worried Edan might not be happy with Rayla, but while he might be wary since he sees she and Callum are as close as he once used to be to Runaan, otherwise, he understands she's still a kid and would respect all she's done and what she's gone through to do what she thinks is right and in protecting Callum although he WILL shut her down if he overhears any casual racism directed towards him.
> 
> Instead, wonder what his reaction will be when he finds out he was right and Rayla's village (and/or Ethari since I'm still deciding if he ghosted her in this au) made her a ghost.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ghost? What do you mean you're a ghost?" Callum demanded. "Last I checked, to be a ghost you have to be dead and Rayla, you don't look dead to me!"

"No, it's a spell." She looked around as if hoping someone, _anyone_ would recognize her presence. "They did it to my parents when they abandoned their post. No one can see or hear us!"

"But that isn't fair!" Callum threw back his hood once he realized it wouldn't matter anyway. Zym poked his head out of his bag and took a look around before letting out a whine as he saw the faceless elves surrounding them. "Why would they do that when you haven't done anything wrong?"

Rayla's voice was small and confused as if she herself could barely believe this had happened. "They...they must have thought I'd abandoned my team. But...but Runaan knew. Even if he didn't understand, he would have told the Council—" She cut herself off as the horrifying realization crashed into her. "Runaan didn't make it back...."

She had known. She had known what she was possibly leaving him to face. She had seen that lair, all its horrors, and she had seen Dark Magic now for herself. Either Runaan was dead...or he'd be better off if he was.

"We have to go see Ethari." Without warning, she reached out to grab Callum before running up a series of stairs leading to one of the buildings higher up. Eventually, they reached a small workshop. "Ethari was one of my parents' best friends. Even when everyone else—" her included but she didn’t say that because then Callum would ask later if she “wanted to talk about it”— "wrote them off as traitors and ghosted them, he didn't give up on them. And he's always believed in me. He— If there's anyone who can still see and help us, it's him."

Besides, she had to see Runaan's flower, she _needed_ to see Runaan's flower. 

As they approached, she yanked the hood back over Callum's head for extra measure. She gestured for him to stay back until she made sure it was fine. Then her attention centered on the doorway of her home where she had to hope someone remained waiting for her.

As she walked through into a familiar place of her childhood, she recognized every inch of it. The books on the shelves organized by height and color rather than title, the tools and crafts of weapons and artifacts alike each set into careful piles, the window giving view to the pond in the backyard with flowers made of glass and wire by Ethari himself usually floated along the surface.

Then her eyes set on him where he sat on his work bench, sharpening the blade in his hands, a new order probably. She braced herself. What was she supposed to say when she had been gone for nearly a month, been labeled a traitor for running away, become the possible sole survivor of her Turma, and befriended a human, the journey with said human involving so much to wrap one's head around she hardly knew where to begin? What if... What if he believed them? 

Well, she had to try. If anyone would listen to her side of the story, it was him.

However, the decision was taken away from her when Ethari raised the sword to examine the piece and caught his missing niece's reflection along the polished surface of the blade. He sucked in a sharp breath and stood up, Rayla freezing in place.

Then he turned around, and she couldn't help the sigh of relief at the fact she could see his face. And that he could see hers.

"Rayla!" He set the sword down and rushed to sweep her up in a fierce hug, her feet lifting off the ground for a brief moment before setting her back on the ground.

"I'm home," Rayla breathed, the words catching in her throat.

"I thought I would never see you again." His arms were tight around her as if worried if he let go for even a moment, she'd slip through his grasp and disappear once again. When he did let her go, he examined her face closely, checking for any injuries. "I'm so sorry, Rayla, I tried to tell them. I tried to tell Runaan you weren't ready, but I know he would have wanted you to live if things went wrong. When Runaan's flower sank, I thought the worst."

Eyebrows furrowed, Rayla looked down, unable to meet his eyes. "His flower...sank?"

Ethari blinked away tears. "Yes. A week ago. When yours and Runaan's didn't sink like everyone else's, I had hoped...." He gave a heavy sigh. "Then Runaan's flower sank to the bottom of the fountain, and I suppose you know what that means." His voice trembled before he swallowed thickly. He gestured to the door leading out to the backyard.

Taking a deep breath, Rayla stepped out and slowly approached the pond. Her flower rested on the water's surface, sending ripples in every direction in time with her heartbeat, the violet gemstone in its center glowing in time with every bath she took. And looking into its depths, she saw Runaan's sitting at the bottom, the teal gemstone dim, but when she squinted, she found it wasn't completely dark like the others surrounding it.

Her uncle joined her, gazing sadly into the water, as he had done for the past week. Rayla looked up at him, an unspoken question hanging in the air between them.

"He's gone." His voice came out a broken whisper as Ethari lowered his head. Then he looked her in the eye, a variety of emotions on his face: anxiety, fear, worry, grief. "What happened, Rayla? How did everything go so wrong?"

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat, worried about what he'd think, that if she told him the truth, he'd disapprove, or even think her a traitor and coward like everyone else. Then she took a deep breath, bracing herself, and she told him everything. About the soldier she couldn't kill, about Runaan's "time-out" to keep her out of the way, about the compromised mission. About her discovery of the egg with the two human princes who'd soon offered to assist her in returning it to Xadia. 

He was silent the whole time, which only served to make her feel more anxious the more she went on. Telling him about some of the other factors of their trip: the dark mage and his children being after them, Zym nearly dying before they found a way to hatch him, Callum unlocking the Sky Arcanum and developing a connection to it (of course she left out the part about him performing dark magic to get to that point. Her uncle was open-minded, but not even he was _that_ open-minded).

At this, he finally snapped out of his stupor, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. Out of everything she just told him that were thought nearly impossible, she finally put one too many on the growing pile. "Wait, what?!"

"Um... Prince Callum can do primal magic without assistance now," she attempted with a nervous grin. "Isn't that just crazy?"

“Rayla, it’s not only crazy, it’s impossible,” Ethari sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Humans can’t do Primal Magic. You think if they could, they would have invented Dark Magic to begin with?”

Rayla met his gaze with a stern expression. “Well, he managed it. Just think what this could mean, Ethari! If we deliver the egg to the Dragon Queen and show her that humans are capable of learning Primal Magic if we tried to teach them, maybe we could stop the war.”

“It’s not that easy, Rayla!”

“Why?” she demanded in exasperation. “If Callum could do it, maybe other humans can learn, too, and wouldn’t that bring balance? Humans would no longer have to use Dark Magic and maybe then things will get better.” She hesitated a moment, her eyes betraying her as they darted over her shoulder where she know Callum and Zym were probably waiting. “I know what they say about humans, but...he’s proven everything we thought of them wrong to me. Just talk to him and you’ll see.”

Ethari shook his head. “Rayla, you—” He froze in his tracks. “Wait a minute.… Rayla, did you bring humans to my house?”

Again, Rayla attempted a smile of innocence even as she avoided his eyes at his sharp tone, hands clasped behind her back. “ _A_ human. And a dragon. If that makes things better.”

Ethari went silent, shaking his head as he buried his face in his hands. Only a few years ago, she was trying to sneak Adoraburrs into the house with that same innocent expression as she tried to weasle herself out of trouble. “Inside. We’ll talk about this inside.” His voice was still muffled by his hands but when he stood up, the look he flashed her left no room for argument.

“Am I trouble?” she couldn’t help asking.

“What can I do about that?” His voice was weary, knowing that whether she lived or not, she couldn’t come back now. Unless the other elves had evidence, they wouldn’t believe Ethari even if he tried to plead in her case. He had stalled, though, when they spoke of the ghosting spell after Runaan’s flower sank. As long as he could, because he had just lost his husband; he couldn’t lose his daughter, too. 

Yet, in the end, he had anyway. Even if she succeeded in whatever mission she had seemingly assigned herself, she couldn’t come home. A night at most, but how could she even think of living a life in a community that had essentially banished her for something that he could see might not even be true? 

“Just get inside,” he said instead without looking at her.

Rayla seemed to want to say something else, her face drawn. But then her eyes narrowed and she moved back to the door. “Come on,” she said, reaching out to grab onto the arm of a teenage boy before yanking him through the doorway. Though he wore a cloak, Ethari already could tell there were no horns underneath. If they went through any towns, they would be lucky if anyone went on without noticing the lack of it and asking questions. 

As he came face to face with Ethari, the human prince faltered, his face sheepish. “Uh...hey, Rayla’s Uncle.” Before he could stop him, the baby dragon in his bag crawled out of his bag, wrapping himself over the boy’s shoulder as he yipped happily and licked his face. “Zym!”

“Zym?” The name didn’t seem to properly register for a good minute or two. When it finally seemed to, Ethari’s eyes widened. “Prince Azymondias!” He hurried into a quick bow, obviously flustered. “You… He really is alive,” he gaped, approaching the baby dragon as if barely able to believe it. Neither teenager could blame him. Until two weeks ago, everyone had thought the young princeling destroyed. 

At the prospect of a new friend, the Dragon Prince in question made an inquisitive sound before giving a yip and leaping onto the blacksmith’s shoulders, sniffing and licking his face. “Affectionate little guy, aren’t you?” he couldn’t help but laugh. Still gaping at Zym, the mere sight of him mind boggling. “Well--” he turned back to the human prince and his niece, and he took a moment to notice how close they stood together-- “it seems there’s some explaining to do. Like what are your plans from here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Midterms are killing me


	6. Chapter 6

Turns out explaining what would be considered a series of miracles set off by pure luck was...kinda hard.

To put it nicely.

Especially when you have two teenagers talking over each other and taking a break every few minutes to bicker with each other over accuracy. Turns out, Rayla's story had simply been paraphrasing. 

All in all, Ethari was having a pretty rough emotional rollercoaster of two weeks in the span of a few hours. First, he thought his husband was dead and that Rayla had abandoned everyone. Then Rayla had returned, and, thankfully, had not, but in fact, found the egg of the FREAKING DRAGON PRINCE, and was traveling with a human to deliver said egg. And now apparently, the egg had hatched, a dark mage was possibly on their tails or at least on the lookout, and he was now in the same room as the apparent first human in history to connect to a Primal Source. A human prince who he could now see his niece bickering with like they were an old married couple.

What exactly is he supposed to do here?! Frankly, he's still trying to figure out what exactly he’s supposed to _say_ when the two are done because...well, what _is_ he supposed to say about all that?

Heck, what were _they_ expecting from him when they showed up out of nowhere just to dump all this upon him? 

And, of course, to add onto his growing list of headaches, the long lost Dragon Prince was currently making a mess of his house in search of food. 

Once all was said, Ethari lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What am I going to do with you?" he groaned.

Sheepishly, Rayla attempted a smile. "Love me?"

At that, her uncle picked up his head to flash her a sharp look. “Try again.” Still, he could never be mad at Rayla for too long. Running a hand down his face, he exhaled loudly through his nose. “Well, things are what they are, so it seems we’ve got to work with what we have. What are you two planning to do from here? Because you’ve been lucky so far, but you really do need to be careful.”

“We’ve been careful!” protested Rayla. Ethari raised a brow. “... _Maybe_ a little less careful than we should have been, but we were!” Then she gestured to Callum. “It’s the gesture that matters. A human prince returns the Dragon Prince; surely that will help stop the war.”

Ethari gave a long, heavy sigh. “Your heart is in the right place, Rayla, and even you, Callum, but you have to understand that it’s a lot more complicated than just...one act of kindness to end _centuries_ of hatred and violence.”

“But it’s more than just that,” Callum said. “It’s a cycle. The Dragon Queen ordered vengeance for Zym and the king’s death, so they sent assassins after my brother and…” he hesitated at the reminder of Harrow’s death, but trudged on. “But if she sees her son’s alive, there’s no more reason for a war for something that never happened.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that humans still killed the king and kidnapped her son, and were going to do…” Ethari shuddered at the thought, “who knows what to him before he had even hatched. Whether or not you return him safe and sound, you can’t be sure she won’t also take _that_ into consideration.”

Both teens glanced at each other, their expressions alone saying they hadn’t really thought of that. Well, that was what they needed him for as the current adult. 

Oh, he hated when it was time for him to be the responsible adult.

Runaan was better at that.

Finally, Rayla set her jaw and leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. “We still have to try. Otherwise, what would be the point? Either way, there´s still a chance; how much more complicated can it be?”

Not for the first time, Ethari was reminded just how young his niece was, to still hold enough innocence not to know the trouble she was inviting. And he didn´t even know how old Prince Callum was. Moon above, he didn´t even look that much older than her. But they were both willing to travel with the Dragon Prince to the queen with a plan only a group of younglings would come up with. 

It was a simple solution to _one_ problem, but there was plenty more in the history of Xadia and the human kingdoms that would need much more time to solve. 

“You have no idea,” Ethari chuckled, his laughter wry. “How exactly do you two plan to get to the Storm Spire undetected?”

“We thought we’d stick to travelling in the forest, like we did in Katolis with Rayla,” Callum answered. “We´ll only go into the cities if we really need to. Like for supplies and stuff.“ That idea wasn't quite so appealing to Callum since he so badly wanted to see everything in Xadia he could, but it was practical. 

“That might have worked in human lands, but it's not that safe in Xadia. Out there, you’re more likely to run into wandering elves at best, and rogues at worst. A lot of us get what we need from the forests,” Ethari pointed out.

“Oh...” Callum said. That hadn’t occurred to him, and, judging from her expression, it hadn’t occurred to Rayla either.

After a few minutes, Ethari took pity on them and sighed. “It's been a long day for everyone, and I'm sure neither of you have had a proper meal in a while.” He stood up. “Get washed up. See about fixing up the spare room for Callum, and I’ll…” He took a glance back at the Dragon Prince messing up his kitchen. “Try to see if I can fix up something up and the kitchen cleaned. And...um, Rayla?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been traveling for two weeks, correct?”

“...Yes.”

“I say this with absolute love...but you smell like it. Please take a bath.”

Rayla’s nose scrunched up, but she didn’t argue. He wasn’t exactly lying. Instead, she hesitated before holding out her arms hesitantly, yet still not quite expecting him to pull her into a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered, letting her go.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it and merely said, “Come on, Callum.” Obediently, the human prince followed Rayla upstairs, while Ethari himself prepared himself to go into the kitchen to stop the destruction the young Dragon Prince was causing.

“You go first, I’ll see if I can grab something of Ethari’s for you,” Rayla said, avoiding Callum’s eyes as she tossed him a towel from one of the cupboards. “Put your clothes over there, and I’ll wash them with mine.”

“Um, yeah, okay.”

After weeks sleeping on the forest floor without a bath and in only one set of clothes, it was nice to finally be able to wash off all the dirt that had been gathering on his skin. They hadn't really been prepared when they left, and hygiene hadn't been the first thing on their minds while trying to get to Xadia as fast as possible. In fact, now that he thought about it, he should probably make sure to ask Ethari if he could give them some supplies to take with them when they left. As he grabbed the clothes Rayla had left outside the door as promised and dressed, he hesitantly patted his shoulders. There was nothing there, but he couldn’t help but check. As he passed Rayla on the way out, he couldn’t help but notice her red-rimmed eyes.

“Hey...are you okay?” he asked, turning to face her.

“I’m fine,” she said shortly, walking straight past him into the bathroom. “Spare room’s on the right up the stairs.”

“Right.” As the door shut, Callum climbed upstairs and following her directions, opened the door to the spare room to find Zym had already nestled down on the bedsheets. The minute the baby dragon knew he was there, he greeted him with a happy chirp.

“Hey, buddy,” Callum grinned before taking in everything. The room was simple and plain compared to the previous rooms he’d stayed in at the Moon Nexus, yet inviting and reminded him of home. With a pang, he wondered if Ezran had made it back home. Corvus would protect him to the best of his ability, but how well would he take the burden of the crown. Because once he got home, he wasn’t just his baby brother anymore; he would also be the _king_. And it was always a day Callum had expected, but...not quite so soon.

* * *

Everything is different. 

A culture that Edan had become so used to seemed foreign now. Completely and totally foreign.

Well, he didn't know if he could call it foreign, so to speak. It was a culture that he still completely recognized, and had hundreds of both fond and not-so-fond memories of. A culture that he had not agreed with but understood, and knew how everything worked within. A culture he had always had difficulty navigating. Yet now was all so separate from him.

Still, it had once been home.

Everything was exactly as he remembered. Magic flowed through everything, all made for both practicality and elegance.

All of it had once been home. All of this – This was what he had lived in his whole life. What his mother had fought for. What she had been ready to defend with her life. Even if her decisions differed from tradition.

Well, like mother, like son.

Though he found flaws in their system these days, Edan couldn't help being thankful for the ghosting spell, stupid as he thought it was. “Oh, yeah, let’s banish someone so that we can’t see or hear them but forget to take away their key, that’s totally a plan of pure brilliance...” he had chuckled lightly after seeing the blank faces and literally just...walked straight past them.

On the edge of the village was his old home. Standing in its doorway, he found since his capture, hardly anyone had set foot inside. Other than a quick tidying up, everything was in the same condition it had been nearly fifteen years ago. 

Slowly stepping inside, he looked around, feeling like a stranger in the very house he'd grown up in. Everything was familiar: the books scattered about because it hadn't been that long before he ran out of space on the shelves, and then slowly stopped finding space to put them in general because they were all just so fascinated and he needed to have them _all_ ; the table in the other room, its basket empty but where he'd spent many nights up reading or sketching a vision in mind he just had to get down before it faded; the desk in the corner where he had a clear view of the moon and sky from the window as he did schoolwork in his childhood or fell asleep after hours of research.

As he looked up at it now, he remembered a saying of his father's whenever Edan told him about the whispers he heard. _The Moon comes and goes, but its home is within the Sky. How can they be so close yet so far without falling in love once in a while?_

Most knew Magister Caelum as a Sky Archmage, a teacher, a scholar who couldn't give a fig about tradition, and had even been known to flip off a few colleagues who commented on his lifestyle. Edan had known him as Dad. He had even wanted Edan to attend the academy he taught in before he died, and he even got a scholarship the same year Callum was born, but then well… one couldn’t really get an education from a cell, could he?

Still, what would he think now? What would his mother think? About his life, his choices, where he had ended up? What would they have thought of Sarai? What would they think of Callum now?

That trail of thought was more than Edan was emotionally prepared to handle as he burst into quiet giggles and stumbled away from the memories. Core hemorrhaging eyes made it hard to see the closed door until his forehead crashed into it. In an instant, still, he recognized the carving in the wood under his fingertips, the Aspiro Lillies Edan himself had painted in whites and blues to mark the room he barely showed to anyone unless he truly, deeply trusted and felt comfortable with them.

He had shown Sarai it once and only once but that was enough.

When he tried the door, he found it was locked. After a few more tries, he decided he’d figure it out later and merely made his way to his old room. Dust had gathered, but he didn’t really care that much so as he just wanted to be in his own bed even if it was just for a minute. 

His vision still faded in and out from the amount of stress put on them, but it was getting better now that he had stopped. He wanted to keep going, but if he kept this up, he'd likely go blind before the day was over. 

Edan hadn’t the faintest hint how _tired_ he really, truly was until he collapsed on the bed and just curled up into a ball on the mattress. In the way he’d learned in the past fifteen years to make himself as small and invisible as possible so his back wouldn’t brush against anything and bring jolts of pain in his sleep. 

It wasn’t even night yet. But he was just so _tired_. From everything. Emotionally. Physically. He likely couldn’t move off even if he wanted to. 

Besides, from the energy trails, the children _were_ here. Somewhere…. He could…. Figure it out… later.

His eyes closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! But midterms are finally over and I've got a four-day weekend, so hopefully I can work on this for a bit! Also, happy belated Valentine's everyone! Hope you had a good one!
> 
> P.S. so, I heard from someone that the creators confirmed that Harrow is actually dead. See... NO. This is a place where you can tell me all you want that that's canon, and I'll just be over here plugging my ears and going "lalala," because I REFUSE to accept that. The show could end without showing Harrow again and I'm still going to believe he's the freaking bird, okay? He's alive. He. Is. Alive.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I really SHOULD give these boys a break...but I'm not gonna!

Edan’s eyes shot open in the middle of the night.

At first, in the darkness, his mind thought he was still back  _ there _ . That it had all been a dream. Jolting upward despite the pain shooting through his shoulder blades, his breath came out in short gasps as his eyes searched his surroundings desperately. 

And tears of relief filled his eyes when he recognized the painted stars on the ceiling of his room, glowing slightly in the dark.

A sliver of moonlight painted the darkness of his room with iridescent white inches away from his feet. Still struggling to find his breath, he stumbled forward toward it. Bathed in the moonlight, its beams caressed his face, and he tilted his head up to take in as much of it as possible. Even though he had been freed for almost two weeks, his light-starved skin soaking in the moon’s beams was still almost too much for him.

But it helped clear his mind, ground him to the moment. He was home. He. Was.  _ Home _ . Not there, not in that place where he went to sleep wondering if the next would be the day he’d decide he couldn’t take it anymore and give up. Where hope went to die.

Eyes shut, he waited until the trembles began to fade before focusing on his breath. The air flowing in and out of his lungs until it steadied. The air flowing in and out of every animal and person he could sense nearby . In. And out. 

And, what had once scared him when he was little but now he accepted as fact...the sense at the back of his mind always there: the knowledge of how easily it could  _ stop _ .

Air was everywhere. It gave life. But it could also take away.

Several minutes passed before Edan was ready to move again. And when he did, he nearly fell off the mattress but was able to get himself upright on shaky legs. 

Taking a quick detour, he grabbed a small switchblade hidden in one of his bookshelves. As he moved out and stumbled to the locked door, he carefully slid the knife into the thin space between the door and the frame, pushing at the lock until it slid back, and keeping the knife between the lock and the frame, he gently pushed the door open. Dusting off the chips of wood that had gathered on the knife, he thought a moment before sliding the blade back into the handle and pocketting it. 

As he entered his art room, he took a few steps inside before his eyes took in the scene before him, and he froze. Horror and dread made the fractures of his heart shatter. He didn’t even realize his legs had given out until he felt them hit the floor.

Everything had been destroyed.

Every sketch, every painting he had made in his youth, every piece of art he had placed a small piece of himself into…. It had all been torn apart and ruined.

He had hoped out of everything in this house, they hadn’t touched this one.

Sketches that had been pinned up on the walls, of people, flowers, animals, both of the elven and human from his occasional flights across the border. They were now scattered on the ground, ripped apart into pieces so he could no longer tell what they had even been of, only able to see the occasional letter or piece of note he’d written on them. Edan could remember the few compliments he received were of the likeliness each held to the real thing, of the attention to detail and the effort that they could tell went into them. And now they were all  _ ruined _ .

But the paintings were what broke him…. What he had spent hours, sometimes days creating seemed to be slashed and cut apart with a blade, the faces now unrecognizable. He had painted how he saw the world and how he saw the people in it. Every positive and negative emotion that he knew he had needed to find an outlet for unless he wanted to be driven mad by them remaining in his head. Each had been painted in vivid, strong colors, and bold brushstrokes with more emotion than Edan could ever hope to convey verbally.

Through his tears, he scrambled to grab onto the largest piece of one where his parents’ faces had once gazed out of, that he recognized solely from the Skywing blue mixed with Moonshadow green, a small piece of the symbol he’d drawn above them visible. The symbol of the sky and moon combined, something to be proud of instead of ashamed. And all that remained of it and what he had made to honor his parents’ memory and their love for each other after their deaths was in pieces on the floor, too small to put back together even if he tried. 

He clutched it to his chest, sucking in a sharp breath as it suddenly seemed so hard to get air into his lungs.

Then his eyes caught something leaning against the wall. The painting seemed almost untouched except for the large hole in the center where someone had so obviously seemed to have carved out the face. But he knew by the lack of horns and the halo of light painted around her head that it was of Sarai. He’d made it just before she left so he’d never forget her face. And now it was the one thing made unrecognizable. 

Several minutes passed until he could find the strength to stand up as he mourned the loss of years of work and a place he'd always thought himself to be safe in.

All now gone.

_ Ground yourself in the moment. Don’t look too far behind. Don’t look too far ahead.  _ If Edan did either, he would crumble apart. 

What he could do was keep moving.

Keep focused.

_ Breathe _ . 

As he finally stood and dusted off his hands, taking a shaky breath, he whispered, “Well, it seems everyone just thinks my life has just been one never-ending game of ‘illegal,’ or plain ‘frowned upon.’” Then a large grin spread across his lips, and a burst of laughter escaped him. “So let’s play!”

* * *

_ “Callum.”  _ His name reverberated all around him as if inside his very head. He didn’t recognize the voice, but there was a welcoming warmth to it and almost teasing edge to it as it repeated his name in a singsong voice. 

Everything was a dark abyss, until suddenly color began to bleed into his surroundings, revealing a forest, trees reaching to the sky, seemingly never-ending until they disappeared into a white, wispy fog. 

Unease set in as he turned in a circle, seeing himself to be alone. It reminded too well of the white haze of his fever dream after his first experience with Dark Magic. Of his mother speaking to him and her voice talking him through it as he struggled to breathe. 

_ “Hmm, yes, I wanted to help but I believe a mother is better equipped to assist her child, don’t you think?”  _ There it was again, making him jump. _ “But I  _ will _ be the one visiting you if you scare her like that again. Enough about that, I’m so proud! I was worried you’d never learn.” _

Callum looked around for the voice. “Who...where are you?” He hated himself for how his voice cracked. Not the impression he wanted to make. 

_ “Not surprised you don’t know me. I wasn’t alive long enough to meet you. But we have been watching. I’m just so glad to finally talk to you! Andromeda and I have been making bets against each other for  _ ages _ about when you’d finally come to, but better late than never!” _

Callum’s eyes widened. “Where are you? Where am  _ I _ ?” he demanded

_ “Oh, relax, this is just...well, not  _ exactly _ a dream. But close enough; your mind is here, but your body’s still back sleeping at the Silvergrove.” _ The voice had taken on a teasing if exasperated tone.  _ “Although I suppose I probably shouldn’t come on so strong. You're growing up and learning so fast, but I keep forgetting how little you know.” _

_ “ _ So...I’m not really  _ here _ here, just my head?” Callum asked.

_ “You make it sound so odd. But basically, yes. I’d say not to be afraid but there are so many things to be afraid of.  _ I’m just not one of them.”

As the voice went from being all around to sounding as if right behind him, Callum whirled around to find a man he had never seen before, with skin the color of a cloudy sky undecided of whether or not it’ll rain, and white hair with tints of pale blue standing on top of his head as if electrified. In sharp contrast to his carefree tone and wild hair, his clothing was made of pale blue and silver gray fabrics tied and cuffed close to the skin with as little free-flowing cloth as possible. By the horns sweeping back to sit almost horizontal on his head, Callum took a quick guess  _ what  _ he was,  _ who  _ was another question.

His warm, teasing smile was offset by eyes that were an unsettling white like the clouds themselves on a sunny day. Well, that, and one _ very _ unnerving detail that immediately caught Callum's attention. At the base of the elf's neck, there was a messy, thick line of dark red that looked almost like dried blood, and more than just one line now that he thought about it, more like someone had beheaded him but couldn’t get it on the first try. Black crisscross lines stitching across looked almost like thread sewn to keep his head from falling off. 

The man caught him staring and looked down. “Oh, yeah, that. Bastards couldn’t even kill me right,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Couldn’t even have the decency to kill me the first time so I was still alive for the second blow. Hurt like you would never  _ believe _ , and didn’t even get all the way. My head was still a bit attached when they found me, just one giant mess.” Then he shrugged. “But, well, that’s just the way life goes, although it did give me a wonderful icebreaker when meeting new people. Andromeda didn’t find it so funny, though, so she sewed it back all the way so I couldn’t use it anymore.”

Callum blinked at him, eyes practically bulging out of his head. “Oh, I forgot what I was here for,” the man went on. “I’m such a  _ scatterbrain _ , get it! ‘Cause my head-- eh, it’s just not the same,” he huffed. “Anyway, I’m here, well, because I’m impressed with how far you’ve come all things considered. Especially since so far, all signs pointed to your mother’s traits being dominant.”

Suddenly, Callum found himself rubbed the wrong way. “Wait, what do you mean? Who are you?”

“Isn’t that the million dollar question?” the man sighed, circling him. “Does anyone truly know? After all, no one can say that they were the same as they were yesterday. All we can speak of is who we are at present.” At Callum’s perplexed look, he said, “Sorry, guess I just have my  _ head _ fly off into the  _ clouds  _ sometime.” He laughed at his own joke, and frowned when he was met with silence. “Kids are so serious these days!” 

Callum swallowed back his words, and waited. The man made him uneasy, but at the same time, seemed relatively harmless. “But...if you wish to know my  _ name _ , as I think you meant, well, let’s just say it’s yours now to use. So to avoid confusion, you can just call me  _ Caeli _ . It’s what I prefer from my friends anyway.”

When he stopped pacing, Callum thought a moment as to why a ghost would visit him? After all, you could only have dreams about a person if you’ve seen their face, and there was nothing familiar about this man that Callum could pick out from his memories. And Callum never forgot a face; he could never forget anything he’d seen. The man was an elf, so hopefully he wasn’t by to convince Callum to try Dark Magic again. “Are you here about the war? Because I know I’m human but I want to help, and Rayla and I are trying our best to see things through.” 

A laugh and a knowing look that Callum didn’t quite get. “Oh, I know. And I’m pleasantly surprised considering your upbringing. Both of yours. But see, that’s not the point. Things are going to get...complicated. You’re growing up so fast, and trust me when I say that will not help matters in the  _ least.”  _ He gave a teasing smile and tapped Callum on the center of his forehead in a way that reminded him suddenly of Claudia. “So I’m just going to need you to trust me. Or not. Personally, I prefer any potential students of mine never to accept anything without questioning it first. If you don’t, how will you ever learn?”

“Wait...student?”

“Well, you do hope to learn more magic, don’t you? After all, the spells you do know are useful, but...so little compared to the knowledge you could gain if you open your mind up to it.” Caeli raised a brow and reached into the bag resting on his hip, the strap across his chest as he searched. “Despite your magic being buried deep, you still managed to connect to the Sky Arcanum, to  _ begin _ to understand. And perhaps you can connect to others as well if you tried. After all, there have been those who have connected outside their own primal, the rares one even managing to achieve all six.” 

Callum’s eyes widened. “I--I don’t think I can do  _ that _ .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve barely even got the Sky Arcanum down, I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough to actually--” He was interrupted by a sudden sharp flick on his forehead. “Hey!”

“I used that on my son and at least half my students when they started saying stuff like that, and I’ll use it on you,” Caeli deadpanned, fingers still poised to do it again. “Doubt weighs down the mind. If you believe you can’t, well, you probably can’t, but if you believe you  _ can _ at least  _ try...” _ He took out from his bag a journal with runes etched on the leather-bound cover and extended it towards Callum. When he didn’t reach forward, he teasingly waved it about with one hand, voice taunting. “Now, don’t you want to take that first step?”

Callum glanced down at it, then back at him, their eyes meeting. His grin broadened as if he already knew his answer. Slowly, Callum took it from him, running his hands over it, his fingers tracing the runes. He was at a loss for words. “Um...thank you?” It came out more of a question than a statement.

A laugh. His voice began to fade as the color started to turn to black, reality beginning to bleed in. “Oh, don’t mention it. It’s only right.  _ After all, we are family.” _

“What?” He was already gone, nowhere to be found as Callum searched frantically for him. Who just  _ leaves _ after saying something like that? “Wait, don’t go!”

* * *

Callum’s eyes snapped open as he gasped for breath. Zym was curled up at his feet, stirring when Callum fumbled out of bed, nearly crashing onto the floor. Then he remembered. They were at Ethari’s house. Rayla’s uncle. They were safe. Slowly, the tension drained from him while he glanced around his surroundings. His heart still pounded but his breathing had begun to ease.

Zym blinked up at him with tired eyes, giving a soft whine, too sleepy to do much more but obviously sensing Callum’s distress.

Callum let out a breath and forced a smile. He reached up to scratch the baby dragon behind the horns. “Sorry for waking you up, buddy,” he whispered.

It had just been a dream. Just a figment of his imagination after all the stress of the past weeks. Except it made no sense how  _ real _ it had all felt, even for just a moment. It was as he picked himself back up that he caught something peeking out under the thrown about blankets.

_ After all, we are family _ .

Callum’s blood froze. 

No. No. Not possible. This is not happening.

_ No, you’re no elf. But you’re no human either, Little Dove. _

For a split second, Callum’s mind stopped working. The little hamster running the wheel turning the gears of his brain was knocked out cold. 

The only thought going through his brain was:

_ No _ . No, no, no, no, no.  _ NO _ . He was  _ not _ entertaining that train of thought. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t. He had to be just imagining all this. After all, Callum had dealt with a lot in the past two weeks, and he had more than enough to deal with now, but he could take it with Rayla at his side. But even he had a certain limit to what he was willing to take in all at once. And this would just be one thing too many. Even during a good time.

_ This _ was the  _ worst _ definition of a good time.

Callum swallowed, and reached out with shaking hands. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. 

Maybe it wasn’t there and it was just a trick of the light.

Then his hands grasped the edges and pulled out a dark leather-bound journal with runes engraved, runes he didn’t know, although he recognized the symbol of the sky arcanum at the top. Zym sniffed it curiously before clambering up Callum to balance on his shoulder to see better. The cover was bound tight to the rest of the book with what looked almost like a lock at the side, except with a rune on top of the steel. Callum’s fingers brushed against it as his breath hitched, and it glowed, bursting into a flash of colors like the reflection of a star before the book unlatched and opened into his hands.

Suddenly, the hamster on the wheel wasn’t just knocked out; it was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly meant to make Caeli serious and wise, I did, but then he kinda took on a life of his own and ended up deviating between wise teacher and man whose wife sometimes keeps his one braincell for safekeeping before he does something stupid with it
> 
> ALSO, I made some sketches for this fic. I'd post on here in a separate chapter but I learned my lesson from last time that it doesn't always show up, so please just follow the link! (Please work, please work, please work!): https://rosettastarlight.tumblr.com/post/190876373736/a-sketch-of-asteri-citlali-with-some-luck-i-hope


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